


Favorite

by zelda_zee



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These humans have their uses, Loki thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favorite

These humans have their uses, Loki thinks, gazing down at the one laid out before him. Especially this one, his favorite. He runs an appreciative hand down a back sculpted by taut muscles, over the pale, gleaming curve of a buttock. Barton is quite valuable, really. He is an able commander, a clever battle strategist, his acumen with the bow is quite remarkable for a human, and his body is exceedingly pleasing. Yes, Loki likes this one very much.

Barton lies unmoving beneath him, waiting while Loki muses, drawing idle patterns on his skin with long fingers. Loki has taken others into his bed since his conquest of Midgard began, men and women both, but none have captured his – well, not _affections_ precisely, but attention, certainly - as Barton has. There is something unique about Barton that Loki struggles to define. He cannot quite put his finger on it. He thinks it must be obscured by the enchantment. Barton would be so angry, Loki thinks, if his human self knew what Loki was doing to him, what he was making him into. Loki smiles, almost wishing to see it, to feel that fury crash against him, as fruitless as waves beating against a rocky shore. It would be so enervating, so refreshing. He imagines glassy blue eyes morphing to outraged gray, pictures Barton struggling futilely against him. It makes him hard to think of it.

But no, that would accomplish nothing, and it is so much simpler this way, to have Barton quiescent and compliant, wanting nothing but whatever it is that Loki wants him to want. Perhaps later, when time is no object and Loki can play his games in peace and without danger of interruption – perhaps then he will let Barton have his will back so he can see how long it takes to break it.

Loki leans down until his mouth touches the back of Barton’s neck. He insinuates a hand beneath him, wraps it loosely around his cock, which lays soft in his palm. _“Want me,”_ Loki whispers, pushing the intention through Barton’s skin with his breath. Barton draws a sudden, shuddering gasp as his cock stiffens in the space of a second. He surges back against Loki, grinding his ass against Loki’s pelvis, Loki’s cock gliding sweetly along his crack. Barton makes a feral, growling noise, working his hips mindlessly as Loki strokes him. Loki thrusts, eyes fluttering shut and Barton keens beneath him, hips twisting, the archer’s muscles in his arms and shoulders shifting and flexing as he moves. Loki finds it strangely beautiful, runs an appreciative hand over his skin and smiles when Barton makes a sound that’s something between a moan and a purr.

“That’s right. That’s good, you’re being so very good for me,” he murmurs against Barton’s shoulder, although there’s no need to speak to him. But it pleases Loki to praise his pet, and it pleases Barton to hear it. Loki is not completely cruel, after all.

Barton’s skin tastes of leather and salt, a clean, too human taste that Loki should not find so appealing. He licks his lips, trying and failing to divine what it is about it that he likes. Perhaps it is the flavor of surrender, he thinks. Yes, that must be it.

“Turn over,” he says, and Barton rolls onto his back. “Hold yourself open for me.” Without hesitation Barton pulls his legs up to his chest, grasping the back of his knees. Loki smiles, lets himself indulge in a long look. He touches Barton’s cock lightly, swirling fingers over the wet tip and Barton squirms. “You look like such a whore,” Loki says fondly. “Do you want to be my whore?”

“Yes,” Barton gasps. “Please.” Loki touches his hole, magicks up enough oil to ease the way and Barton arches up, moaning wantonly as the spell takes effect. Loki doesn’t stretch him. He likes him tight and if it hurts Barton to take him, the pain doesn’t make it through the cloud of lust he’s lost in.

When Loki enters him the moans only increase in volume; when he thrusts, hard and slow and deep, they turn to broken cries. Barton is unimaginably tight around him, the heat and pressure of his body driving Loki onward, faster, deeper. Barton rolls his hips, working to Loki’s rhythm and Loki’s breath stutters, his eyes falling closed. He loses himself in the sensations, lets all the rest of it fall away, nothing left but the ardent, aching _need_ for more. Barton's braced his hands against the wall, his feet dig into the back of Loki's thighs, a familiarity he wouldn't allow of any of the others, but Barton spears himself onto Loki’s cock so enthusiastically that Loki barely needs to do anything; and that’s why Barton is his favorite – he’s never content with just being the best at something. It’s as if there’s a need inside him that won’t let him rest, that keeps him striving, even when by any human accounting he has achieved perfection. Loki can appreciate that kind of drive. 

And right now that drive is devoted to making this the best fuck Loki has ever had. He can’t say that Barton’s quite achieved his goal, but every time they do this he gets a little closer.

Loki’s hands slip on sweaty skin as he moves onto his knees, pulling Barton’s hips forward onto his lap. He tightens his hold and jerks him onto his cock, wringing sharp, punched-out sounds out of him. Barton’s leaking all over his stomach and Loki knows he’s painfully hard and desperate to come, but he won’t, he can’t, not until Loki allows it. 

Loki watches him writhe through half-closed eyes as he feels his release start to build. He lets it rise, filling him until, with a sudden, sharp gasp, it overtakes him and he grinds in deep, holding Barton there as he pulses into him. Barton whines as he feels it, hips twisting helplessly, seeking his own ecstasy and unable to find it.

Loki sighs, drawing back, freeing himself from the tight hold Barton’s body has on his cock. He opens his eyes, already regretting the return to reality. Barton lays before him, muscles tensed, shivering, his breathing fast but quiet. Loki draws a forefinger down his torso, watching Barton’s skin jump in its wake. He pauses just above his cock and Barton goes completely still. Loki would swear he is not even breathing. When he continues, sliding along Barton’s shaft, over his balls and into the mess of oil and come behind them, two fingers slipping easily into his hole, Barton raises his legs as before, whimpering.

“Tell me,” Loki says, watching his fingers as he strokes, ever so slowly and gently, all the way in, then out until only the tip of his middle finger remains inside. Barton makes a strangled sound as Loki adds another finger and slides them in deep. “What do you want? Beg for it, like a good little whore.”

“Please,” Barton says, voice shaking so much his words are slurred. “Please let me. Let me come.”

“Hmmm,” Loki considers. “I wonder if I should.” He doesn’t, always. Sometimes he sends Barton back to work as he is now, fucked out and on the verge of release but unable to achieve it without Loki’s word. Loki supposes that it’s cruel, but it only makes Barton redouble his efforts the next time, so there’s no very strong incentive for Loki to incline toward mercy.

He slips a fourth finger in on the next stroke and Barton's thighs tremble, fingers digging into the backs of his legs. He’ll bruise himself if he’s not careful. Loki twists his hand and Barton mewls, pushes his hips forward onto Loki’s fingers, taking them greedily as far as they can go.

 _“Please_.” Barton sounds most piteous, Loki thinks, as if he’s in agony, not out of his mind from pleasure.

“Oh, very well,” Loki relents, supposing the man has earned his reward. “You may come now.”

Barton goes rigid, clamping tight around Loki’s fingers. His body convulses in hard, jerking motions and he throws his head back, a strangled half-scream ripping its way out of his throat as he shoots ropes of come over his stomach, his chest, a stray droplet landing in the hollow of his throat. 

_Gorgeous_ , Loki thinks, watching him shake, captivated by the contractions of his muscles, the way his fingers and toes flex and curl. When Barton stills, his limbs splaying onto the bedding languidly, Loki pulls his fingers free, crawls forward, hovering over him. After a moment, Barton's clouded blue eyes blink slowly open and he stares up at Loki. 

“You please me, little whore,” Loki says softly. He rubs a finger through the come at Barton’s throat and holds it up to his lips. Barton smiles lazily and cleans it for him with quick little kitten-licks that make Loki draw his breath in sharply. 

After the final battle, he thinks, he will have time to spend long hours with his favorite. And then he will clear the clouds from Barton’s eyes and bring him back to himself and see what that is like, see if he likes it as much as he thinks he might. See how long it takes to break him, to make him Loki's without the magic that currently blankets his soul. It will be a challenge, but Loki, after all, is a god. And a contest between a god and a man, well… it is really no contest at all.


End file.
